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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26866366">Falling Leaves and Pumpkin Patches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum'>Triangulum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV), The Addams Family (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ghost Peter Hale, Ghost Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:41:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26866366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter’s the only Hale haunting the Hale’s old home. His entire family had died in the fire, and yet he was the only one that came back as a ghost. He’d waited for the rest of them, for his sisters and nieces and nephews, but no one ever came back. Peter doesn’t know why he hadn’t moved on when they had, but in the fifteen years since the fire, he’s been stuck here. He woke up again, invisible to the family that now lived in the home. He hadn’t been sure how much time had passed, but the burned parts of the house had been rebuilt and there was a new family living in it. And Peter <i>hated</i> them.</p>
<p>OR </p>
<p>All fall and Halloween ficlets are going to be here!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Steter Network</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm not doing kinktober this year, just too much going on, but I will be poking at some fall and Halloween prompts. And here's their home! Thanks to V. Mures for the title!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is from the prompt "The new tenants of the house I’m haunting are being haunted by another ghost. War ensues."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter’s the only Hale haunting the Hale’s old home. His entire family had died in the fire, and yet he was the only one that came back as a ghost. He’d waited for the rest of them, for his sisters and nieces and nephews, but no one ever came back. Peter doesn’t know why he hadn’t moved on when they had, but in the fifteen years since the fire, he’s been stuck here. He woke up again, invisible to the family that now lived in the home. He hadn’t been sure how much time had passed, but the burned parts of the house had been rebuilt and there was a new family living in it. And Peter <i>hated</i> them.</p><p>It took a few years before Peter got a grasp of being a ghost. Manipulating the environment around him came easiest, making the house freezing despite the fire roaring in the fireplace and the furnace in working order. Moving objects was harder, and at first he could only do small things like pens and spare change left on the counter, but eventually it became easier. Once he figured out how to speak, albeit with only a few words or a scream, he’d harassed the terrified couple until they’d moved out.</p><p>He can’t do all these at once. It takes a lot of energy and it takes him a lot of time to recharge after manipulating his environment. He doesn’t sleep now that he’s dead, but he goes into a kind of trance where he’s unaware of almost everything around him until he has enough energy to function. So he needs to choose his moves carefully. He runs three more families out of the house in five years, and since then it’s rented out by the owners, all the tenants not staying long at all. Peter’s very proud of that.</p><p>The Hale house has been empty for about a year at this point. Peter finds himself...drifting a bit, with nothing to focus on. He doesn’t have the tenants’ TV to watch or newspapers and magazines to look through. He doesn’t have anyone to mess with. He has no…<i>enrichment</i>. He’s like a bored, nearly comatose animal that has nothing to keep him awake or sane.</p><p>Then a new family comes, a husband and wife. Adrian Harris and his wife Amanda are appalling. Peter can’t wait to get them out of his house. As much as being here alone can be intolerable, they Harrises are way worse than being listless and catatonic here. Adrian is cruel, often bragging about the terrible way he treats others at work, at how he made multiple children cry at school. Amanda is the same, going off on racist and homophobic tirades about a coworker, which Adrian joins in happily. Peter wants them out of the house where his sister and her wife died. </p><p>There’s something else that comes with the Harrises that Peter definitely doesn’t enjoy, though it doesn’t show up for about a week. Another ghost of a young man. Peter doesn’t know if the journey that exhausted him and that’s why he only appears a week in, but Peter doesn’t especially care. This is a one-ghost household and he wants the intruder gone. </p><p>Peter’s in his old bedroom, which Adrian has appallingly turned into a heinous office, when the other ghost drifts in through the door. Peter freezes, and so does the other ghost, staring at him with his jaw dropped.</p><p>“You can see me?” he asks, sounding excited. Well, Peter needs to shut that down quickly.</p><p>“Get out,” Peter says.</p><p>The intruder’s excitement fades, his expression turning irritated. “You think I’d choose to be here? <i>Here</i>? Tied to Adrian fucking Harris and his fucking wife?” he says. </p><p>“I don’t care, figure it out,” Peter says, well aware that he sounds ridiculous. He can’t leave here, what makes him think the intruder can? But he doesn’t care. He gets to be selfish, this is the home he was burned alive in. That doesn’t seem to matter to the intruder. He barely glances at Peter’s burn scars. </p><p>“Fuck you, dude,” he says, making Peter’s eye twitch. “You keep your nose in your own afterlife and I’ll stick to mine.” With that, he goes back out the door. Peter doesn’t bother with doors anymore, not when he can walk through walls. He wonders if the intruder is newly dead and hasn’t gotten into the habit yet. Then he shakes himself because he <i>refuses</i> to care about anything related to the intruder. </p><p>That’s a hard promise to keep though, because now that he’s here, Peter runs into him everywhere. Sometimes the intruder drifts by him, not acknowledging him at all except to flip him off over his shoulder as he goes. Sometimes he’s floating in the corner while the Harrises watch TV, and Peter refuses to leave because he wants to actually watch the news and see what’s going on in the world while he’s stuck here. It’s like the living room is a temporary truce area, because neither of them want to miss what’s on. Peter assumes the intruder gets just as bored as he does. </p><p>Peter’s still full of sullen animosity, avoiding the intruder, even scaring him if he manages to catch him off guard and throw a pen through him. The other ghost seems plenty happy to avoid him as much as possible, trying to stay away from not just Peter but the Harrises it seems. The only time he’s in the same room as them is when they’re watching TV and he’s watching. It’s about a month of antagonism that Peter finds out why.</p><p>The Harries are chatting with the news on, and abruptly stop when a report about a murder comes up. Amanda turns up the volume as the newscaster speaks, and Peter realizes the other ghost went very, very still in his corner. </p><p>“Still no news in the murder of Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” the newscaster says. “Stilinski’s head was found in an empty lot in Portland two months ago. His father, Sheriff Stilinski, says they’re not giving up and have enlisted the help of the FBI, but as of now, there is no new evidence in the case. If you have any information, please contact the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Department or the FBI at the numbers below.” A picture of the alive Mieczyslaw Stilinski is shown. The intruder ghost.</p><p>“Good,” Amanda says, a smug grin on her face. “They’ll never find his body. They’d have to cut open a dozen pigs two months ago to have a chance.”</p><p>Adrian laughs. “You made a good call on that,” Adrian says. “Still, it’s for the best we moved. Just in case.”</p><p>“The sheriff will never find anything,” Amanda says dismissively. “He’ll be mourning his useless dead son until he drinks himself into an early grave.”</p><p>The lightbulb in the lamp closest to Mieczyslaw explodes, shattered glass falling all over the rug. Amanda jumps, Adrian shrieks, and Peter...well, he’s seen irritation on the other ghost’s face, but never the rage that’s there now. He’s never shown any ability to move anything, not like Peter can, but bursts of strong emotions...yeah, that could make it happen. Peter hasn’t felt anything like sympathy for someone in years, probably before he died, but there’s a slight ache where his heart used to be.</p><p>“Must be a power surge?” Adrian says. “Maybe whoever rebuilt this place used shitty wiring.”</p><p>Amanda hums and gets the broom. Peter’s been focusing on Adrian, wondering if he only does things to him he might think he’s going crazy. But after hearing them, he’s thinking it may be time to start torturing Amanda, too. He looks back to the corner where the intruder was to see it empty. Peter decides not to look for him until tomorrow. He probably needs some time to himself. </p><p>But he can’t find the other ghost the next day. He’s not in the kitchen, living room, dining room, any of the bedrooms, or even the attic. Peter sighs, a habit he hasn’t been able to break even though he has no need for breath anymore. The only other place he could be is the basement. So Peter grits his teeth and goes down to the basement for the first time since he “woke up” down there as a ghost.</p><p>Sure enough, the other ghost is down here, sort of floating in a corner, his eyes dull like he’s in one of the restful trances Peter finds himself in sometimes. </p><p>“Please come upstairs,” Peter says. The other ghost doesn’t jolt like he does whenever Peter throws something at him, his eyes instead slowly sliding to Peter.</p><p>“Why?” he asks.</p><p>“Because I was burned to death down here and would rather be upstairs,” Peter says through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Then go upstairs,” the other ghost says, like it’s obvious.</p><p>“I will drag your ass with me,” Peter says.</p><p>The ghost looks surprised at that. “Why?” he asks again.</p><p>“Come the fuck upstairs because I have a proposition,” Peter says.</p><p>The other ghost stares at him, suspicion written all over his face, before finally shrugging and following Peter up the stairs. Peter takes him up to the attic, because he knows Adrian and Amanda don’t bother going up there and he has a feeling the other ghost really doesn’t want to see them right now. </p><p>“I’m not interested in your pity,” he says once they’re upstairs.</p><p>“Good, because you’re not getting it,” Peter says. The other ghost doesn’t look shocked at that, just glares. “But I can help you get revenge, Mieczyslaw.”</p><p>The ghost makes a face at that. “Call me Stiles, for the love of god,” he says. “And what do you mean?”</p><p>“Have you ever been able to influence the environment around you before you shattered the lightbulb?” Peter asks.</p><p>“No,” Stiles says, looking frustrated. </p><p>“I can teach you,” Peter says. “And then we can kill them.” Stiles stares at him. Peter’s grin turns vicious. “I would have done anything to kill the woman that burned my family alive.”</p><p>Stiles is silent for a moment, the look on his face calculating, and Peter finds himself happy about that. Stiles may have been uninvited, but he’s smart, and Peter can work with smart. </p><p>“How?” Stiles finally asks. </p><p>“They could take an unfortunate tumble down the stairs with a knife waiting at the bottom,” Peter says. “A plugged in hair dryer could fall into Amanda’s bath. The gas stove could be left on while they sleep and a match is lit. Though I’m not a fan of the last one, in all honesty. My house has had enough fire in it.”</p><p>Stiles nods. “That’s fair,” he says. He bites his lip, debating, before saying, “They killed me with a knife. So I’m partial to that option.”</p><p>Peter grins. Maybe he was a bit hasty. He and Stiles may get along well after all.</p><p>Peter doesn’t know why he’s tied to the place where he was killed while Stiles is tied to the people that killed him. He doesn’t exactly know the rules behind being a ghost, but he does know he begins to enjoy haunting with Stiles. They flicker the lights on the Harrises, hiss in harsh voices, rattle the bedframe. They have the Harries on edge, stressed and sleep deprived and scared.</p><p>It takes time. It had been years before Peter had been able to consistently manipulate that environment around him. He doesn’t expect it to take that long, since he had been figuring it out on his own, and Stiles has Peter to teach him. He catches on to changing the temperature easily, enjoying following the Harrises around and keeping the air cold, no matter how many blankets they use. Moving physical objects takes a bit more time. For a while he plateaus on being able to only move something small like a penny, but once he manages to dig into that well of rage inside him, it becomes much easier.</p><p>“I think you’re ready,” Peter says, watching as Stiles is able to pick up the chef’s knife, toss it from hand to hand, before putting it back in the knife block. “I think doing it separately is best. Kill one while the other is gone, so when they come home and discover it, we can get them while they’re still in shock.”</p><p>“I agree,” Stiles says. “Is it...is it possible to leave a message for my dad? Like, are we able to write? So he knows they’re the ones who killed me?”</p><p>Peter grins, sharp and feral. “We can do something about that.”</p><p>Later that night, Adrian has a late night at work so Amanda is home alone. Stiles wants to be the one to kill Adrian, the one who tortured him the most, so Peter will be the one to kill Amanda. She’s not much of a cook, and tonight is no exception, choosing a microwaveable meal while she sits at the breakfast bar, scrolling on her phone. It’s easy for Peter to grab the knife and shove it through her throat. Her eyes go wide in shock, disgusting, gurgling noises bubbling out of her. Peter and Stiles watch impassively as she falls to the ground, clutching at her ruined throat. She dies quicker than Peter had expected, but he and Stiles are satisfied. </p><p>Adrian is back hours later, shouting about his day to Amanda from the foyer, complaining about a child at school who dared contradict him. He makes his way into the kitchen, screaming when he sees his wife dead on the floor in a pool of her own blood. He runs over to her, falling to his knees, and that’s when Stiles slits his throat, a feral light in his eyes as he watches Adrian fall onto his stomach next to his wife, blood flowing from his throat as the life leaves his body.</p><p>Peter takes the knife, his stamina a bit stronger than Stiles’, and bends over Adrian’s back. When his body is found by the police, they’ll find him with ‘Stiles says hello’ carved into his back. He takes Stiles’ hand when he’s finished, looking down at their handiwork. He doesn’t know why everything is intangible but he can still touch Stiles. Stiles thinks maybe since they’re on the same altered plane of existence they can interact with each other. Peter thinks that’s probably right, but he’s just happy to be able to touch someone after all this time.</p><p>“You did it,” Peter says, squeezing his hand. “You got your revenge. You’re probably not tied to them now that they’re dead. You can go anywhere.”</p><p>Stiles squeezes his hand back. “Maybe. We’ll see how fast we can get your connection to the house broken,” he says. Peter looks over at him quickly. “What, you think I’d leave you here?”</p><p>A slow grin spreads over Peter’s face. As much as he’s possessive of the Hale house, he can’t deny that being tied here is cumbersome. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that though, because there’s a strange change in pressure, a wave of cold filling the room, then with a swirl of mist, the ghosts of Adrian and Amanda Harris appear before them, disoriented and confused.</p><p>Peter and Stiles stare at them, mouths open.</p><p>“God <i>damn it</i>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This comes after the Addams Family crossover <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619887">Cousins and Conventions.</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"We’re outgunned,” Scott says hopelessly. </p>
<p>“We’re fine,” Stiles says dismissively, reading over Peter’s shoulder. He’s trying to negotiate an axe from a magical antique dealer in Albuquerque. It’s the magical axe equivalent of an uzi, and would be extremely helpful in dealing with the hoard or furies that’s taken up residence on the edges of the preserve.</p>
<p>“There are over a hundred of them!” Scott says. “There are eight of us!”</p>
<p>Stiles frowns, turning to look at the rest of the pack in the living. He counts under his breath as he points to each pack member. “Erica, Boyd, Cora, Allison, Isaac, Kira,” he says. “Plus me, Scott, and Peter. That’s nine of us, Scott.”</p>
<p>“Nine against one hundred isn’t much better!” Scott says.</p>
<p>Stiles glances at Peter. “Only nine...Where’s Derek?” he asks.</p>
<p>“With your dad at the station,” Peter says. </p>
<p>“See, we have eleven including Derek and my dad,” Stiles says.</p>
<p>“Oh good, so we only have to kill about ten each, fantastic,” Scott says. </p>
<p>“It’ll be fine,” Stiles says, attention back on Peter’s email. “I wouldn’t mention the knife we bought from him. He might ask what happened and won’t be thrilled if we tell him a lake monster ate it.”</p>
<p>“Mm, good point,” Peter says, deleting the line Stiles pointed to. “Is the sword you bought still in your office?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Stiles says. “And it’s still in one piece.”</p>
<p>“Okay, I’ll bring that up.”</p>
<p>“Stiles!” Scott shouts, finally getting Stiles and Peter’s attention. Isaac and Kira are looking a little apprehensive; Allison and Boyd look impassive, waiting to see what happens; but Cora and Erica are leaning forward, seeming to enjoy the hell out of this. “We have no way to get out of this! Our alpha isn’t even here! We’re going to get picked off one by one!”</p>
<p>“Do you need me to slap him?” Erica says, looking eager. “Shock the hysterics outta him?”</p>
<p>“I don’t need to be slapped, I need a plan!”</p>
<p>Stiles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Our alpha is with my dad because he can learn about any weird calls to the Sheriff’s Station about any spooky activity and plan from there,” Stiles says. “Peter and I are trying to get this damn super axe so we can mess them the hell up. Allison’s waiting to hear back about reinforcements from her contacts. We’re doing what we can here.”</p>
<p>Before Scott can say anything, Boyd, whose sense of smell is best after Derek’s, turns toward the door, frowning. “Someone’s here,” he says, sounding confused. “But I didn’t hear or smell them until now.”</p>
<p>The pack stands warily, looking at the loft’s sliding door. </p>
<p>“Oh good, she came,” Stiles says, walking toward the door. Scott looks like he wants to stop him but knows by now that there’s really no doing that. He yanks the loft door open to show a girl about his age. She’s wearing a black dress with a Peter Pan collar, her black hair pulled back into a long, shining braid. She doesn’t try to stab him this time, which he appreciates.</p>
<p>“How was your trip?” Stiles asks.</p>
<p>Wednesday’s lip curls. “California is entirely too warm,” she says. </p>
<p>“Well, it’s the end of summer,” Stiles says. “Wednesday, you’ve met Scott, Kira, and Peter. That’s Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Cora, and Allison. Guys, this is my cousin Wednesday.”</p>
<p>There’s a beat, then Erica is grinning, having heard about Wednesday after Stiles ran into her at the Pacific Coast Supernatural Convention. She’s smart enough not to walk too close, having heard about Wednesday trying to stab Stiles.</p>
<p>“They told me about you and how terrifying you are. I’m thrilled to meet you,” she says.</p>
<p>Wednesday’s lips curl into a small smile. “Stiles told me I’d like you,” she says. Erica looks delighted. </p>
<p>“How’s Matilda?” Stiles asks.</p>
<p>“She’s good. Beginning her master’s program for library science,” Wednesday says, and Stiles is pleasantly surprised to hear the affection and pride in her voice. </p>
<p>“That’s great,” Stiles says, grinning.</p>
<p>“Not to be rude,” Scott says through gritted teeth, “but how is one more person going to help us against the furies?”</p>
<p>Wednesday’s small smile turns into a smirk. Peter snorts from where he’s still emailing the antique dealer. He knows very well how violent the Addamses can be. Wednesday and her brother buried two people alive when they were young children.</p>
<p>Wednesday takes off the bag she has slung over her shoulder, walking to the table where Peter is sitting and setting it down. She opens it and pulls out a crossbow with a bunch of symbols and runes carved into the side, only some of which Stiles recognizes. The next is a bag of bolts for the crossbow, then a half dozen very sharp looking knives with the same runes carved into the hilts. Then comes a bag of <i>grenades</i> and wow, Stiles really thinks those should probably be stored in something other than a burlap bag. She just pulls more and more weapons out of her bag, ending with two heavy metal rods that open up into very sharp spears, which look more like double-ended pitchforks. </p>
<p>“Whoa,” Cora says. She’d wandered over while Wednesday was unpacking. She’s smart enough not to touch, but is looking fascinated at everything laid out. </p>
<p>“Furies are physically strong but easy to kill,” Wednesday says. “You’re sure you want to kill them? They can be quite valuable.”</p>
<p>“They’ve killed a good deal of people so far,” Stiles says before Scott can open his mouth. “And we need to keep Beacon Hills’ supernatural profile low.”</p>
<p>Wednesday just shrugs. “It’s your decision,” she says. “Have you found the nest?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s in a cave in the preserve,” Peter says, closing the laptop. “We’re not getting the axe. He’s still a bit salty about that phoenix incident.”</p>
<p>Stiles winces. “Fair. I think grenades will do the trick though.”</p>
<p>“Make sure you’re clear from the blast radius unless you want to be poisoned,” Wednesday says. Stiles yanks his hand back from the bag. “These aren’t ordinary grenades. Furies are very vulnerable to this specific mixture.”</p>
<p>“What’s in it?” Stiles asks.</p>
<p>Wednesday grins. “Do really you want to know?”</p>
<p>“Nope, not really.”</p>
<p>“Good. When are we doing this?”</p>
<p>They leave the loft an hour later, after Derek has arrived back, leaving Parrish to watch over the Sheriff and field supernatural calls. Allison has her crossbow, bolts dipped in a sickly green liquid Wednesday brought that will poison the furies, Wednesday doing this same with her crossbow. The weapons Wednesday brought are passed out throughout the pack, until everyone is armed with at least two items. Peter has most of the grenades, his throws usually accurate thanks to high school and college baseball. They’re as ready as they’ll be, and they really can’t allow even another night with the furies hunting people. </p>
<p>Peter leads the way through the forest, and Stiles can tell from the way his head is tilted that he’s listening very hard for anything that doesn’t belong. Derek brings up the rear with Allison, listening as hard as Peter.</p>
<p>“How many furies did you say there are?” Wednesday asks. </p>
<p>“We think about a hundred,” Stiles says. Wednesday’s brow furrows. “What?” Stiles asks.</p>
<p>“Furies don’t usually travel in groups that large,” Wednesday says. “That’s very odd.”</p>
<p>“Could something be controlling them?” Stiles asks.</p>
<p>Wednesday shrugs. “Possibly. Does it matter?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” Stiles says. “Priority is stopping them.”</p>
<p>Wednesday hadn’t changed out of her dress and boots, but she doesn’t look uncomfortable at all as they weave through the trees. When the first fury comes flying out of the nest, it’s Wednesday’s crossbow bolt that hits it right in the heart. Stiles knows she’s good with weapons, had seen her shoot an apple in her brother’s mouth when he’d visited as a kid, so he’s not shocked to see her hit her target. Though her speed is very impressive. He didn’t think you could reload that quickly but here they are.</p>
<p>Stiles is pleased that he had been right. They really do have this. The furies come at them fast and their claws don’t feel great, but the weapons Wednesday brought are worth their weight in gold. Stiles doesn’t know what the runes do, but he’s itching to get back home and pour over this badass spear he has that hums under his fingers like it’s alive and a part of him. </p>
<p>“Grenade!” Peter shouts as he throws his third into the cave opening, letting them all know to be ready. The explosion is followed by shrieks and cries, only a few furies stumbling out of the cave, vomiting what looks a lot like blood. </p>
<p>It takes maybe ten more minutes before the forest around them is littered with the bodies of the fury hoard, Erica decapitating the last one easily. They’re all a bit bloody and bruised, but no lasting injuries as far as Stiles can tell. Wednesday’s bleeding from a cut at her hairline but she doesn’t look bothered in the slightest by the blood dripping down her face, merely cleaning off her knife before sliding it back into the sheath. </p>
<p>“Okay, so, good work, team!” Stiles says, giving everyone an enthusiastic thumbs up. </p>
<p>“It wasn’t the worst way to spend a day,” Wednesday says, crouching down by the body of the last fury she’d killed. “None of you are squeamish, are you?”</p>
<p>“No,” Stiles says. “Why?”</p>
<p>She answers by pulling out a flask from her pocket and slicing open the fury’s vein. Scott makes a disgusted noise and looks away. Wednesday doesn’t acknowledge him, just places the flask under the fury’s arm so the blood flows into it. </p>
<p>“Mother will be very happy to have fury’s blood at the ready,” Wednesday says. “She gets irritated when she’s in the middle of spellwork and has to stop to gather ingredients.”</p>
<p>“I don’t blame her,” Stiles says. </p>
<p>Stiles offers Wednesday his guest room once they get back to the loft, but she waves him off. “I already have a hotel,” she says. “I have a list of horrible places I want to see in this wonderful little hellhole of a town.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Peter says as he and Stiles drive back to Peter’s place. “That was certainly interesting.”</p>
<p>“It went better than I thought it would,” Stiles says. Peter raises an eyebrow. “Oh I knew Wednesday would be great, but I thought the pack might...freak out a bit?”</p>
<p>“Scott did,” Peter says.</p>
<p>“Yeah but I expected Scott to,” Stiles says. “That’s his thing.”</p>
<p>Peter snorts. “Well, you’re not wrong there,” Peter says. “She seemed to have fun. We should have called her when that coven came last winter.”</p>
<p>“God, right. Next time.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>For the prompt "They say the veil between worlds is thinnest this time of year. As is my patience for your obsession with graverobbing".</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They say the veil between worlds is thinnest this time of year. As is my patience for your obsession with graverobbing,” Peter drawls, looking down at where Stiles is in a hole three feet deep, a shovel in his hand.</p>
<p>“It’s not <i>graverobbing</i>,” Stiles says, dumping another shovel-full of dirt right onto Peter’s feet, making his lips curl.</p>
<p>“Are we in a graveyard?” Peter asks lightly, looking around at all the headstones around them. “Are we digging up a grave?”</p>
<p>“<i>We</i> aren’t, you’re sitting up there bitching instead of helping,” Stiles says. </p>
<p>Peter sighs and jumps down into the hole next to Stiles, taking the shovel and pushing him back. That’s fine with Stiles, he’s sweaty and dirty and more than happy to climb out of the hole.</p>
<p>“Are you sure we need to do this?” Peter asks.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Stiles says, for what must be the fifteenth time. “If we want to banish this fucked up ghost witch, we need his bones!”</p>
<p>“This seems wholly unnecessary,” Peter says, throwing a shovel-full of dirt over his shoulder, hitting Stiles in the chest.</p>
<p>“Fucking asshole,” Stiles grumbles, trying to brush dirt from his clothes. “Unless you have a Star Trek transporter and can zap those bones out of the casket, then it’s extremely necessary.”</p>
<p>“I’ll send a complaint letter to Elon Musk when we’re done,” Peter says. Stiles thinks he's just salty that his plan was shot down.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t trust any transporter from that asshole,” Stiles says. </p>
<p>Peter’s much quicker at digging than Stiles, which they both know and is why it’s especially obnoxious that Peter made Stiles dig first. The rest of the pack is probably still battling the weird ghost witch that’s taken refuge in the Hale house in the preserve. She doesn’t have 100% control of her ability to affect her surroundings, but she was able to throw Erica up through the roof and slam Isaac into a wall. She’s also sometimes been vulnerable to claws. Stiles would rather get this done before he has to learn how hard she can throw. Especially since this cemetery borders the preserve and is relatively close to the Hale house.</p>
<p>There’s a loud screech from the trees, making Peter and Stiles turn toward the sound, then to look at each other.</p>
<p>“Get it ready,” Peter says, before getting back to digging very quickly. </p>
<p>Stiles rips open the backpack at his feet, pulling out the rock salt and herb mix, lighter fluid, and matches. There’s a thunk when Peter finally hits the coffin, then louder when he starts slamming the shovel into the wood until it’s splintering and breaking. Stiles drops down into the open grave next to Peter, patting him on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Get out of here,” Stiles says, urging Peter up out of the hole, partially because he needs Peter to watch his back, and partly because the farther Peter is from fire, the better. </p>
<p>Peter’d opened up the casket enough that Stiles has enough room to sprinkle the salt mix over all the remaining brittle bones. Next is liberal squirts of lighter fluid, making sure the remains and casket are both soaked. </p>
<p>“Done!” Stiles says, grasping Peter’s hand so he can haul him up out of the grave. There’s another shriek again.</p>
<p>“They’re getting close,” Peter says. “Hurry up.”</p>
<p>Stiles gets the match to light on the second strike, making sure Peter’s clear before dropping it into the grave. Peter grabs his arm and yanks a second later, getting them away from the soon-to-be roaring fire. The angry shrieks turn into cries of pain, and a moment later, the ghost witch comes flying out through the trees, engulfed in flames, aiming right at them.</p>
<p>“Jesus!” Stiles says. Then Peter’s scooping him up and dashing away, which any other day may have ruined his ego, but right now he’s more than happy to just whooshed away. The ghost witch collapses at the foot of her own grave, disintegrating into nothing as her remains are burned away.</p>
<p>Peter and Stiles take a moment to stare from the tree line before Derek and Erica come bursting out of the trees near them.</p>
<p>“Did she get either of you?” Derek asks, eyes bright red.</p>
<p>“No, we lit her up in time,” Stiles says, pointing to where the grass in front of her grave is gently smoldering. </p>
<p>“It’s done?” Erica says, the bruise coloring the right side of her face slowly healing before their eyes.</p>
<p>“Yeah, we just need to fill the grave back in,” Stiles says. Peter turns around right there and walks back into the trees. “Where the hell are you going?” Stiles calls after him.</p>
<p>“I did most of the digging, I’m not filling it in too!” Peter calls over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“You’re a real asshole, Peter!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>For the prompt: The character(s) have a run-in with an odd trick-or-treater a week before Halloween, but the eerie child refuses to leave their doorstep</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been a long week. Peter’s had picky client after picky client, and all he really wants is a drink and to go to bed. So when he’s just about to open his liquor cabinet and there’s a tapping from his front door, he closes his eyes briefly, reminding himself that he’s an upstanding citizen who no longer murders. He sighs, turning and walking to the front door. </p>
<p>He slows a bit as he gets closer, frowning. He can hear a heartbeat from the other side of the door, but it’s...odd. Sluggish. He looks through the peephole and frowns harder. It’s a child on his doorstep wearing what looks like a quite old homemade clown costume. White shorts and a shirt with three poufs down the front like huge buttons, faded like they used to be bright red, yellow, and blue. Unease stirs deep in his belly. Then the child looks up directly at the peephole, like he knows Peter’s looking through it, and it takes everything Peter has not to jerk back.</p>
<p>Peter doesn’t spook easily. He killed his first werewolf when he was fourteen. He’d survived being burned alive twice. And yet opening the door, he can’t deny the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>“Can I help you?” Peter asks, looking down at the kid, who looks maybe like he’d be in third grade. “Halloween isn’t until Saturday. You can’t trick or treat until then.”</p>
<p>The child just continues to stare at him, eyes sharp and skin pallid. Peter tries to ignore the way his instincts are screaming at him to slam the door in the kid’s face.</p>
<p>“Where are you parents?” he asks.</p>
<p>The child doesn’t say anything, just stares before opening his mouth wide, wider, much wider than any human jaw opens, like someone took a razor to the corners of his mouth and split his cheeks. Peter gets a glimpse of multiple rows of sharp, rancid teeth, before he moves on instinct.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You <i>punted</i> a <i>child</i>?!” Stiles’ voice is shrill through his phone.</p>
<p>“It opened its mouth and had five rows of razor teeth!” Peter says. “What would you have done?”</p>
<p>“Not kicked a child like a football!”</p>
<p>“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” Peter says. “Now get over here.”</p>
<p>“I’m already on the way, keep your hairpiece on,” Stiles grumbles, hanging up.</p>
<p>Peter puts his phone back in his pocket, keeping his eyes on the unconscious “child” lying five feet away. At least Peter thinks he’s unconscious. He’s not interested in getting any closer to check. He’d reacted on pure instinct, kicking the child right in the center of the chest, sending him flying back onto Peter’s lawn. Peter had paused only long enough to grab the baseball bat Stiles keeps by his front door before following. Once again, he’s thrilled he didn’t buy a home close to any neighbors. </p>
<p>Peter doesn’t hear any change in heartbeat, but suddenly the child sits straight up, eyes immediately zeroing in on Peter. Peter doesn’t even pause, just swings the bat until it connects with the child’s skull with a sickening crack. The child slumps back onto the grass and doesn’t move, though Peter can still hear it’s slow heartbeat. </p>
<p>Truly, this is ridiculous. Peter’s been burned alive. Twice. He's faced an army of hunters after his blood. He survived being nearly disemboweled by a crazed incubus. He’s the most dangerous person in the pack (though he admits Stiles is a close second). And there’s fear rushing through his veins because of a creepy child. Well, a creepy child who can open his face in half and has five rows of teeth. As embarrassing as it is, his wolf’s instincts are screaming at him that this is dangerous, and he hasn’t lived this long by ignoring those instincts. </p>
<p>Soon, Peter hears the rumble of Stiles’ engine as he drives down Peter’s winding driveway, eventually parking next to Peter’s car. He’s hopping out a second later, giving Peter a very amused look at the bat in his hands. </p>
<p>“Whoa,” Stiles says when he gets closer, looking down at the unconscious boy, his mouth hanging open and terrible teeth on display. “That is not a normal kid.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really? What tipped you off?”</p>
<p>“Your attitude really isn’t necessary, do you want help or not?” Stiles says.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Peter says. “Do you know what it is?”</p>
<p>“No,” Stiles says, squatting down to look, though carefully staying out of lunging range. “He feels like...like flies crawling all over my skin. Definitely not a vampire or zombie…”</p>
<p>That’s when the child sits up again and hisses, mouth wide open and showing all those teeth. Peter doesn’t hesitate, hitting it in the head and dropping it back to the grass.</p>
<p>“Okay, did you see its eyes?” Stiles asks.</p>
<p>“No I didn’t see its eyes, I was staring at its teeth!” Peter says.</p>
<p>“When he hissed they turned black with white rings where the irises should be,” Stiles says.</p>
<p>“Reanimated?” Peter asks.</p>
<p>“Yep. Not a zombie exactly but definitely caused by a necromancer,” Stiles says.</p>
<p>“So not something we can interrogate to find out why it was raised or who raised it,” Peter says.</p>
<p>“Correct,” Stiles says. He looks apologetic when he adds, “The way to permanently kill it is fire.” Peter nods, his throat going dry. “Look, if you help me tie it up tightly, I can do it myself. You don’t need to be there.”</p>
<p>Peter gives him a look that he hopes conveys just how stupid he finds that idea. “You think I’m going to leave you alone with that undead...thing?” he says. </p>
<p>“Uh, if it keeps you from fire, yes?” Stiles says.</p>
<p>The undead child sits up again. Peter whacks it with the baseball bat. It falls back to the ground.</p>
<p>“Go get the enchanted rope from your car,” Peter says firmly. Stiles shrugs and does what he’s told. </p>
<p>They tie up the creepy undead child, Peter hitting it one more time before they finish. They put it in the back of Stiles’ Jeep because there’s no way in hell Peter is letting it inside his Mercedes. They drive out of Beacon County, because Stiles doesn’t want anything to happen in his dad’s jurisdiction, just in case. This part of the forest isn’t considered the preserve, so they have to be a little more careful. They stay off the commonly-used hiking trails until they’re deep in the woods. </p>
<p>Stiles traces a circle around the undead child, which is now awake and struggling against the rope, but there’s no give, whispering incantations to keep the fire contained to the circle. California has had enough wildfires (thanks, climate change-denying conservative douchebags). </p>
<p>“You should probably head back to the car,” Stiles says to Peter.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“You don’t need to see this,” Stiles says.</p>
<p>“I’m staying with you,” Peter says. “Light it.”</p>
<p>Stiles sighs, but Peter knows he’s well aware of when he can get Peter to relent and when he can’t. Stiles steps into the circle, putting his hand on the forehead of the hissing child. A few murmured words and it bursts into flame. Stiles quickly hops out of the circle, getting away from the heat. Peter can’t help it, as soon as Stiles is close he yanks him over, not able to stand him being that close to the fire. Stiles doesn’t try to pull away, just leans into Peter. </p>
<p>The blessing is the undead child isn’t human, not remotely. Not anymore. Therefore, the shrieking hisses sound not at all like alive humans. Nothing like the screams of his nieces and nephews before he’d snapped their necks, keeping them from having to burn. </p>
<p>They wait until the magical fire turns the child into nothing but ash. Stiles gathers the ashes and dumps them into a few different streams, just to be sure, before going back to the Jeep. Thankfully, neither of them smells like fire, the flames Stiles conjured not being usual fire, otherwise Peter would never be able to get in an enclosed car.</p>
<p>“Thank you for coming,” Peter says quietly as they drive back to Beacon Hills. Stiles reaches over for his hand, and Peter gives it.</p>
<p>“I’ll always come when you call,” Stiles says just as softly, before grinning. “Especially when your stories start with kicking small, evil kids like soccer balls.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles has known about the supernatural since he was a child. His mother had been a witch, though the gift hadn’t been passed down to him, so he’s met countless of her friends over the years. Other witches, a ghoul or two, some ghosts, and a few werewolves, to name a few. So he’s not entirely surprised when he gets to college and his roommate in the dorms is a werecoyote named Theo. Stiles <i>hates</i> him. Not because he’s a werecoyote, Stiles doesn’t give a shit about that, but because he’s a royal fucking asshole.</p>
<p>Theo constantly is eating Stiles’ food, leaving muddy pawprints everywhere, and staying up until three a.m. loudly watching TV with all the lights on while Stiles desperately tries to sleep. Whenever Stiles complains, Theo just has a snide comment or a threat. It’s like being back in high school with Jackson. So after the first semester, Stiles applies at an off-campus apartment. It’s still owned by the school so he’ll have an assigned roommate but he’s willing to roll the dice if it means getting away from Theo.</p>
<p>Stiles finally, <i>finally</i> hears back only a week before the next semester starts, so it’s kind of a mad dash to move all his things, but a few trips in the Jeep cover it. The actual problem is his roommate. Not an asshole, not like Theo is at least. No, the problem is he’s hot as fuck. Normally that’d be fine, Stiles has learned how to lie about his crushes convincingly; however, Peter Hale, his roommate, is a werewolf. The last thing he needs is for his new roommate to smell just how interested he is, and hear just how his heartbeat jumps a bit under his gaze. Thankfully they have separate bedrooms instead of one big studio, so at least he can hide if he needs to.</p>
<p>Peter’s…<i>nice</i>, though. At least, he’s nice by Stiles’ standards. He’s full of biting sarcasm and dry wit and really, Stiles is all about that, so they get along pretty well. Peter’s a junior, so they don’t share any classes so far, but he meets Peter’s nephew, Derek, who also lives in their building. He’s in Stiles’ Irish history course and Stiles immediately clocks him as a werewolf when he sits down and his nostrils flare, smelling Stiles. Probably smelling his uncle. And really, they shouldn’t be surprised when people figure out they’re not human.</p>
<p>The first week of classes is so hectic that he doesn’t have time to meet anyone else in his building until the second week of classes. On Monday, he runs into Derek in the lobby, arm around a pretty Asian girl named Kira. When he shakes her hand, there’s a little shock at the touch of her hand, making his eyes widen.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she says, looking a bit sheepish. “I’m still working on control a bit.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s fine,” Stiles says. “Not offended.”</p>
<p>He must look curious though because Kira says, “I’m a kitsune. Electricity is kind of my thing.”</p>
<p>“Oh, gotcha,” Stiles says, unsure what else to say. “That’s pretty cool.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t seem put off by his awkward comment, just smiles and tells him it was nice to meet him. He says the same, hoping she didn’t think he was being an asshole.</p>
<p>The next day he holds the door open for a guy carrying a big box into the building who has the trace of a sulfur scent that he knows follows hellhounds. He thanks Stiles, introduces himself as Jordan, says he’ll see him around the building. Okay, so, two werewolves, a kitsune, and a hellhound. Weird, but he supposes a lot of people from a lot of places converge at college, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they happen to find themselves in the same building.</p>
<p>But then he meets the women across the hall, Lydia and Meredith, both banshees. There’s definitely something a tiny bit eerie about them. They’re nice for sure, and smart, but odd. Friday, Peter has a grad student named Marin over who’s helping him with one of his chemistry classes. Very pretty, very spooky, and very much a druid. She smiles slightly and gives Stiles a very enigmatic look before she leaves, telling Peter she’ll see him next week. </p>
<p>Stiles waits until she’s gone before he turns to Peter. </p>
<p>“Okay, I don’t have a problem with supernatural creatures, but come the fuck on, I can’t seriously be the only human in this damn building,” Stiles says. “That seems statistically impossible.”</p>
<p>Peter’s eyebrows fly up and he's looking at Stiles like he’s said something especially stupid.</p>
<p>“Stiles,” Peter says slowly, “this is a building specifically for supernatural students.”</p>
<p>“What?” Stiles asks. </p>
<p>“Marin enchanted the application website specifically,” Peter says. “You can’t even view the listing for the building unless you’re supernatural in some way.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Stiles says slowly. “Well, obviously there’s been a mistake–”</p>
<p>“Marin doesn’t make mistakes,” Peter says. “Only supernatural beings can see the page.”</p>
<p>“Well I’m not!”</p>
<p>“Well surprise then, looks like you are,” Peter says.</p>
<p>Stiles stares at him, but Peter doesn’t look like he’s kidding in the slightest. </p>
<p>“What...the fuck.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come talk to me on <a href="http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com"> tumblr </a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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